4 Red
‘Okay, everyone! We’ve only got lunch to see all acts! It doesn’t have to be perfect, but we’d like to get a good idea of what you’re planning for the show,’ Barkley announces to the drama studio of awaiting victims.
She ties back her dusty brown hair, pushes her glasses up from the end of her rather large nose, and sits behind the table staged as a makeshift judges’ panel between Geri and I.
‘First up is Zara Amir,’ Barkley’s voice thunders through the hum of students chatting to one another.
Zara’s easily one of the coolest people at Seaton. I’ve never seen her wear the same hijab twice, and each one is stunningly detailed.
Zara struts up to the stage, dragging a microphone stand behind her. She balances it in the centre of a taped-out rectangle to represent the stage and turns to Jack and Becky in the audio room, nodding for them to press play on her track.
A string quartet backing track plays, and the soothing echo of an outstanding rendition of ‘I Will Always Love You’ radiates around the studio. As the other acts all quiet their conversations and the football lads pause their laddish behaviour to listen, it’s like the air in the room stops moving. Zara gets as far as the second verse before Geri signals a cutthroat gesture to Jack and Becky.
‘That’s lovely. Thank you Zara,’ Barkley interrupts.
Geri and Barkley whisper to one another while writing notes.
Zara’s taken aback by being cut short. Her bottom lip folds in under her teeth, as the wave of self-doubt visibly washes over her. She throttles the mic-stand to take it off with her, but looks over to me. I give her an over-expressing nod, smile and thumbs-up. She takes this as me affirming her talent and quickly lifts her head back to reassured confidence.
We’re then slowly tormented by a dance act that wouldn’t know the Cha Cha Slide if it smacked them in the face, a juggling act that forces all three of us to duck for cover behind the table, and a monotone poetry reading which should only be used for psychological torture.
Each one ends suddenly with Barkley shouting, ‘Thank you. Next!’
Geri, in turn, strikes their name from the list.
‘Lord, give me strength,’ Barkley mutters under her breath. ‘Who’s next please?’
‘Seaton Magic,’ Geri replies, condescendingly sounding out every syllable.
‘That’s us miss!’ West says as he dismounts from the staging blocks. He corrects his short black hair and lifts up his loose white t-shirt to wipe his forehead (which isn’t even slightly damp). In turn, he flashes his unnaturally defined abs to all the girls in the room who are now fixated on him. Just seeing his smug yet annoyingly well-chiselled, symmetrical and spot-free face brings back every snide comment, every shove in the hallway, every run home at the end of the day…And that time—
No, Cameron! We are in sixth-form now. Get a hold of yourself!
The lads all proceed to hop down from the blocks and gather in an arrow shape, facing away from us. A member of the team winks and points to a girl standing by the lights. She swoons before flicking the switch for them. As the drama studio plunges into darkness, the door opens just enough to let Finn slip through. My stomach knots as I fixate on the silhouette of his body.
Barkley looks around, panicked, like she’s never seen darkness before. The light from the audio room means we can just about make out who is who, and where they are.
Becky presses play on the audio equipment and then cups her face against the glass to watch.
‘The Greatest Show’ from The Greatest Showman starts playing. I feel every muscle in my body tense up. The boys stomp to the intro beats of the song as they start sliding in synchronisation around the space.
West spins around, plants his feet apart, flicks on a torch to light up his face and mimes the opening words: ‘Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for…’
Despite how much I hate him, this is hot. I run my eyes up and down his abs, following the creases of his obliques down to the waistband of his boxers. Suddenly, I realise something is growing in my pants…And it’s not my love of musical theatre.
The team thrusts and gyrates around the room with torches, sensually lifting up their tops and grinding on the floor. I look over to see if Finn’s watching, but I can only make out the small reflections of light in his eyes. In the audio room, Jack turns to Becky. Her mouth is hanging open as she watches on through the glass. Jack places his fingertips under her chin and slowly pushes her jaw closed with a glare.
We all know that the second this chorus drops, we’re about to be served a real treat. West mimes the words, ‘So tell me do you wanna go?’ and he whips his belt off with one hand.
‘Right! I think that’s all we’ve got time for chaps!’ Barkley shouts, clapping her hands together.
Within a split second, the music stops. Jack’s finger still rests on the switch. The lights come back on and Finn’s leaning against the wall next to Zara and her gaggle of girlfriends. He looks over and catches my eye. His lips part, surprised for a second, before he closes them to send a smile my way. I smile back. Seeing him, my tent pitches to full mast. I quickly pick my bag up off the floor and rest it on my lap to hide my indecency.
West waits for Barkley to say something. He looks at me. My head sinks into my neck, while my smile melts away…as does my erection. His familiar dead-behind-the-eyes stare cuts through me like a knife. I can practically hear every anxious cell in my body screaming, ‘Run away!’ He clocks Finn, then locks eyes back with me.
‘I think we may need to tone that one down a bit boys, before we have any chance of letting you perform that for the school,’ Barkley says, immediately pulling West’s glare off me like Velcro.
‘No worries Mrs B,’ West says, strutting out of the taped box.
Geri and Barkley stand up from the table and walk over to the audio room.
West starts going to the door before altering his course and coming over to me as I pack up my things.
‘What did you think?’ he asks, perching himself on the table and trapping my notebook under his bum.
‘Yeah, good,’ I reply, trying my best to avoid eye contact and hoping he leaves.
‘Nah, come on, what about the part where I lifted up my top like this and ran my hands down my abs?’he says, lifting his top and repeating one of the moves.
The blood drains from my body. The conflicting nature of being attracted to the idea of what he’s doing, whilst being repulsed by his very presence. He turns my thoughts into static. I try not to look up and give him the satisfaction. I quickly shove the last few remaining sheets of notes into my bag. I crowbar my fingers underneath my pinned notebook.
He looks down at it and then back to me as I beg with my stare for him to relent.
‘Ah, you love it,’ he says in reply to my silence.
Barkley’s bobbing ponytail catches my attention as she approaches.
‘Alright miss?’ West says, transforming his voice into something believably pleasant.
He finally stands to release my notebook and I’m quick to whip it out from underneath him.
‘I’m good. Thank you West. How’s your mum?’
‘Yeah, she’s good thanks! That dress really suits you miss. Very you!’
Geri circles the table, rolling her eyes at West’s two-faced crap.
‘Anyway, I hope you like the full show!’ He turns away from the desk.
‘Just keep it PG,’ Barkley says, looking at her notes on the table.
West leans into me as he goes to leave.
‘I know you’ll like the full show Cam,’ he says, deepening his voice and looking through his eyebrows.
The hairs on the back of my deck ripple in a cold chill. The soles of my feet feel like they’re welded to the floor. I turn my attention to Barkley and Geri as he struts off.
‘Ya know, some of the lads are a right pain in the arse. But that West, he’s a sweetheart,’ Barkley says, flicking through her pages.
‘You’re kidding right?’ I snap.
‘What?’
Geri shakes her head at me.
‘Never mind,’ I concede.
Finn’s looking over, his expression oozing concern before it quickly turns to a pleasantry directed at West approaching. I just about hear West say, ‘Hey. Finn right?’ before putting his hand on Finn’s shoulder and escorting him out. My heart sinks into my feet watching them leave together. Even the idea of Finn being friendly with West is enough for me to start questioning everything I’ve liked about him so far. If they start hanging out, I know that erases all hope of Finn and I becoming closer. Avoiding West and his entourage has become second nature since Year 10.
***
That makes it three times I’ve seen Finn talking to West and the other lads. With every sighting of them walking to class together, chatting in the common room, or, as of today, eating lunch together, it’s like a piece of my hopeful soul is coloured grey. I can’t stop thinking about him.
‘Cameron,’ Mr Walsh says, pulling my attention in the hallway.
Mr Walsh is looking younger today. He’s old enough to hold the respect of most students, but some days, he looks young enough to feel relatable. Today is one of those days. His perfectly trimmed dark brown hair is rarely out of place. The odd cluster of silver hairs dust the sides of his head and the chin of his short-trimmed beard. His endearing smile showcases his well-maintained teeth and his usual shirt and cardigan combo. It’s weird how a cardigan on a man can make him feel forever approachable…He’s not slim or large. Not tall, nor short. His authenticity, however, is second to none.
‘Hi sir,’ I reply.
He steps off to one side and leans his head towards an alcove, signalling that he wants to talk to me about something.
‘I don’t want to pry, but you’ve missed business twice this week. Is everything alright? You’re not thinking of dropping, are you?’
‘Sorry, sir. I’ve just had a couple of things on this week. That’s all. I promise I won’t make a habit of it.’
My head falls forward slightly under the weight of guilt.
‘It’s fine. I trust you have your reasons. I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay?’‘I’m okay, sir. Really, I’m fine.’
‘Alright. Well, you know where to find me if not.’
I raise an unconvincing smile before he smiles back through a sympathetic mask. Parting ways, I run through every business studies lesson in the past week to try and pinpoint what I might’ve said or done to make him think something might be up. The school bell rings right by my ear, and I’m quickly shaken out of my internal spiral.
‘Boo!’ Robyn shouts, as she pokes at my sides.
‘Jesus Rob!’
‘Have you got a free period now?’
‘I have, yeah. Was thinking about going home though,’ I reply.
‘I thought we couldn’t go home in free periods until Year 13?’
‘Well, no. But no one’s stopped me, and I’ve done it every Thursday since the beginning of term.’ I shrug and map the route out of school in my mind’s eye.
‘Look at you, Mr Rebel! Well, if you don’t mind staying, I was going to ask if you could maybe help me with photography?’
‘You’re not to take my picture are you?’ I say, creasing my face in a plea.
‘No, no. I just need someone to hold some props for me.’
‘Okay, sure.’
***
‘Miss, is it alright if Cam helps me with my shoot? He’s on a free.’
‘Sure! Hi Cam,’ Miss Owen says, raising her head from marking books.
I flash back a smile and wave.
‘This is it here,’ Robyn says.
She gestures to a small set with a navy painted background, some adjustable mannequins, wooden blocks and a couple of strung-up paper butterflies.
‘I’ll just get the tripod and stuff set up.’
I drop my bag beside hers and pull my hoodie off. Emerging from the hoodie, Finn walks into the classroom. His backpack hangs off one shoulder over a blue and red chequered shirt. He spots me and glances down at my naked abdomen. I pull my t-shirt back down to cover it.
‘Hey, what’re you doing here?’ Finn asks.
‘Oh, I’m just helping Robyn,’ I say, patting down my puffed hair.
‘Hey Finn,’ Robyn says, returning with arms full of different poles and lighting equipment.
‘Do you need a hand?’ Finn asks.
‘It’s cool, I’ve got it.’
I take the poles that Robyn hands me, placing them on the desk to my side. Finn politely smiles and heads to a computer on the far side of the room. I glance over at him throughout the period, just in the chance we could share a look. No such luck though. I have, however, shared several awkward smiles with Miss Owen, who’s almost directly in the way and has caught me each time. Why, in a room of students who are all talking to each other, with Miss Owen, who doesn’t care to be strict, did he choose to sit on the other side of the room and not come over once?
‘You okay Cam?’ Robyn asks, interrupting stare forty-seven.
‘Huh?’
‘You seem distracted?’
‘Why do you say that?’ I scrunch my nose.
‘Well, you’ve been holding that butterfly on a string for about ten minutes and I’ve said you can put it down three times.’
‘Oh, sorry.’I lower my arm, which I now realise has very little blood left in it and is aching like a mother—
‘Just go and talk to him.’ She prods my bottom rib with a finger, which I’m quick to swat away.
‘Get off. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
She rolls her eyes and bends down to look through the camera’s viewfinder. ‘Whatever you say, Cammy boy.’
The bell rings.
‘Right, good job today folks. Please make sure you’ve put the equipment back as you found it,’ Miss Owen announces to the class, smiling students off individually as they pack up and leave.
‘Do you want a lift home?’ Robyn asks as we exit the classroom.
‘I’m alright thanks. I fancy the walk today,’ I reply.
Robyn’s smile makes me feel like ‘everything’s going to be okay.’ She doesn’t just smile with her mouth or her eyes; she smiles with her heart. It helps soothe my inner heartache a bit.
‘Shit, my phone!’ I say, grabbing my empty jean pocket.
‘Didn’t you plug it into the computer to charge?’
‘I did! You go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say and spin on my heels.
‘See you tomorrow!’
My mind’s blank as I walk back into the classroom.
Please be there. Please be there. Please be there.
I spot the draped cable, but no phone.
‘Crap!’ I say, turning to scan the room.
Everyone’s left.
‘Oh, hell,’ I exclaim before my hand snaps to my forehead. I check every memory of my phone in the past hour.
‘This yours?’ Finn says, as a door shuts off to one side.
He’s holding my phone, smiling.
‘Oh my God. Thank you!’ I say, galloping up to him.
‘I was gonna text you, but then realised that wouldn’t have been much help, seeing as I had your phone,’ he says, maybe blushing as he hands it to me. I can’t tell for sure.
‘No, I guess not,’ I laugh. ‘You heading out?’ I ask, taking a deep breath to calm myself.
‘Yeah, just need to get some stuff out of the darkroom.’ He nods to the door behind him.
‘What’s that?’
‘I’ll show you,’ he says, opening his arm to invite me to walk in front of him.
I step up to the door and see a sign that reads, Knock when the red light is on. I look up though my eyebrows at the caged red bulb glowing brightly.
‘You have to knock to make sure no one’s coming through the inner door at the same time. Otherwise, light could ruin the work inside,’ Finn explains before he leans around me and knocks with his knuckles on the door. His chest lightly rests on my shoulder as he does.
My breath slows. My thoughts cloud. My heart swells. I softly inhale the smell of his woody cologne in as long a breath as I can muster without causing suspicion.
He opens the door and ushers me inside a small, confined room that acts as a light lock. He follows in and closes the door behind us. The small room falls into complete darkness. It’s as if light never existed. My eyes look around to see nothing but nothing. In the quiet darkness, I focus on his breathing. It’s deep and slow. Each breath ripples the hairs across the back of my neck. The closeness of this space means I can feel his body against mine in three different places: his knee is resting against my thigh, his chest expands into my back and his forearm gently presses into my shoulder as he steadies himself in the doorframe.
In an instant, I could be enveloped by him. Pulled in by both arms and tightened in a grip as he whispers pillow-talk in my ear. He could run his hands up my t-shirt and slide his fingers into my waistband if he wanted. The thought of him navigating my body in the dark makes my fingers flex at the idea. As they do, there’s a fourth place our bodies touch. His little finger interacts with mine. It slides down my knuckle and I hold my breath to see if it’s voluntary or coincidental. Holding my chest, I don’t hear his breath either. But I feel a faint blowing over my ear.
‘You can open it,’ he whispers.
His deep voice cuts through the stillness of the confined space and each word causes a small puff of warm air to run over my neck. The sound of his breathing becomes more apparent…his smell becomes even more so. One by one, the touch points of our bodies separate. First, the little finger, followed by the thigh, then my back and then the shoulder. In one lean forward to the door, the only reminder of his touch is the tension left hanging in the air. I want him.
I put my hand forward and grasp a handle. Opening the door, the darkroom reveals itself. The room is only lit by a couple of red bulbs fixed to the wall. Five big cameras sit on one side of the room. There’s a workbench in the middle hosting plastic trays filled with liquid and short squeegees clipped on their edges. On the other side of the room, a long sink with a drying rack fixed on the wall above it, hosts various black-and-white pictures and streams of film negatives. The rubbery, chemical-like smell is so jarring that I have to reset my breathing with a quick scoff.
‘It’ll take a couple of minutes for your eyes to get used to it,’ Finn says as he walks in behind me. His fingertips gently push between my shoulder blades to guide me into the room further.
He heads over to the drying rack and goes up on his toes to reach some prints drying at the top.
‘This is so cool! I’ve been at this school for six years. How did I not know this room existed?’ I say.
Finn lets out a laugh as he turns back to look at me.
‘Believe me, if you were in here five times a week, you’d soon learn it’s not that exciting. It always smells weird too.’
Having packed his photographs into a plastic wallet, he picks up the trays from the workbench and empties them out into the sink. As he does, I have a nosey at the equipment dotted around the room.
‘What does this do?’ I ask, pointing to one of the big cameras.
‘It’s an older type of developer. You put your film inside that tray in the middle there and then expose a light-sensitive paper on the plate below. That’s how you get this black-and-white photo.’ Finn holds up one of his photographs. It’s a shot of trees from the ground looking up.
‘Oh, wow! I love that,’ I reply with an approving smile.
‘You can have it if you like. I don’t want it,’ Finn says, placing it on the bench in front of me.
My face puzzles at why he doesn’t want it. The damp corners wet my fingertips as I prise it up from the workbench with my fingernails. I walk over to the small shelf by the door and rest it there for when we leave.
‘So, what’s the deal with you and West?’ Finn asks as he rinses off a tray under the tap.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, darting my head towards him.
‘I don’t know. I’ve just noticed you tend to walk the other way if you see him. And when we were in the drama studio during auditions, it was like he was flirting with you. But like, in a mean way.’ He shakes off the last tray and rests it on the edge of the sink upside down.
‘Yeah, well, West is as homophobic as they come,’ I say, twiddling some plastic film holders on the workbench. ‘He gets some sort of kick in trying to seduce me, whilst also making me feel this big.’ I hold up my thumb and index finger to illustrate how small.
I avoid eye contact. He steps away from the sink and up to meet me on the other side of the workbench.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers.
I feel his big-eyed stare drilling into me. I glance up to meet his eyes before retreating downward again.
‘It’s okay. You get used to it after a while. I was praying he’d go to college or something, but alas. Still here. And still a prick.’
‘Well, he’s no friend of mine.’
‘I thought you were hanging out?’ I replay all the times I’ve seen them together in my mind, double-checking I’m not crazy.
‘A couple of his friends have been friendly and stuff. But I got a bad vibe the moment I met him. Plus, if he’s a prick to you, I want nothing to do with him.’
Interesting.
I shake West off my mind. I walk over to the door as Finn dries his hands with paper towels.
‘Okay, I’ve gotta turn the lights back on now. I suggest you close your eyes,’ Finn instructs as he steps over to meet me at the door and rests his fingers on the light switch.
‘Why?’
‘After being in here for a few minutes, the normal light coming on is pretty intense.’
He’s close enough to touch, but not close enough for me to lose myself in his cologne. I look back at him and comply by closing my eyes. I focus on the sound of the tap dripping into the sink. A few seconds pass while I wait for the light to blind me through my eyelids. However, a deep red haze remains. I wonder if he’ll kiss me. Pull me into him without warning, push me against the doorframe and firmly drag his tongue up my neck. Unbuckle my belt and take full advantage of us having this quiet space all to ourselves.
In my dreaming, I realise several seconds have passed. I move my focus to my breath, before I question what’s taking him so long to flick a light switch. The woody scent I’ve come to lust for fills my nostrils as I inhale. I ever so slightly open my eyes. Through my squint, he’s looking at me. Down to my lips, then down further to my neck. His tongue folds over his bottom lip. I inquisitively open my eyes a little more. They capture his attention. His eyes widen in a retaliated panic before they quickly snap closed and I hear a click.
In a burst of white light, the power of the sun floods my corneas! The sudden brightness blinds me as my hands leap up to my face, desperately trying to shield my eyes.
‘Son of a bitch!’ I shout.
‘I told you to close your eyes!’
I rub my eyes and keep blinking to try to see again.
‘I think I’m blind!’
‘You’re not blind. Just keep blinking.’
Finn’s blurry form moulds back into his handsome self. He’s looking both concerned and amused at my squinted blinks.
‘Come on,’ he says, opening the door and taking my forearm in his hand.
I follow his lead, picking up the photograph on the way out.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, placing a hand on my shoulders to steady me in front of him.
God he’s gorgeous.
‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. Us gays are resilient little buggers.’
He smiles, then looks at his hands holding me in place. They gently release me, as he takes a deep breath. He turns away and walks to the other side of the room to pick up his bag. He runs a hand up the back of his neck and through his hair. I notice the charging cable hanging from the computer and walk over to get it.
We meet back at the doorway. His flickering eyes can’t decide whether or not to look at me. Nor do I know whether to look at him. The darkroom has changed his demeanour somehow. He’s hesitant, shy and cute. So, so cute. In avoiding awkward glances, I fix on his little finger. It twitches towards me. Is he…
His fingers wrap into a fist as he clears his throat. We turn out of the doorway with a quick glance at one another. Conversation fails us as he pulls out his phone. I replay every touch over and over in my mind, using his walking body as a reference for my memory. I want to see him again. I don’t want this to be it for another few weeks. But how?
‘Hey, Finn.’
‘Yeah?’ he replies.
‘We’re going to the Christmas market in town on Saturday. Would you like to come? It’s okay if not. But, it could be fun?’
‘Yes! I love Christmas markets! Can I bring Sammy?’
My heart sinks at the prospect of this perhaps being a long-distance girlfriend he’s failed to mention. Shit. He’s straight. What am I doing?!
‘Who’s Sammy?’ escapes through my sinking breath.
‘Oh, sorry, Sammy’s my puppy. We have a checklist of things the trainer suggested we show him and a busy environment is one of them.’
Thank you God. Not a girlfriend!
‘Yes! I’d love to meet him! Just don’t be offended if he loves me more than you,’ I say jokingly, as hope re-enters my bloodstream.
‘Rude,’ he replies, raising the crook of his mouth. ‘But I know he will love you.’
My ears prick. Hearing him say ‘love you’ only adds to my fantasising. The thought of those words one day being for me makes my hand reach towards his. But maybe not. Maybe seeing him again isn’t a good idea. But I’ve invited him now. I retreat my hand to my side and smile as we part ways at the end of the hall.
My brow becomes damp and my neck itchy. What is happening to me?